


12 Days of Christmas

by Mistress_Whimsy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU season 9, Christmas Fluff, Destiel - Freeform, Did I mention fluff?, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Mistletoe, Seriously fluff, Spiked eggnog, general silliness, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_Whimsy/pseuds/Mistress_Whimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>12 days of Christmas lights, spiked eggnog, and other assorted Winchester-style disasters, during which Dean has a revelation, a panic attack, and a whole other mess of feelings he's sure he doesn't need. Really. He doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karmascars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karmascars/gifts).



> AU season 9. Sam never collapsed and Castiel made it to the bunker. Seriously, the tags aren't kidding. This is fluff. Smut and fluff and all around goofiness. It's also a Christmas present for the awesomeness that is Karma. It sort of exploded. Originally it was supposed to just be a one shot, but then the characters ran away with it and decided it would be a twelve chapter story, one for each day leading up to Christmas.
> 
> I don't have wifi at my place right now, so even though I was going to post one chap a day, it might end up being a bit sporadic. Sorry about that. 
> 
> Karma edited this because she's awesome. And you should thank her, this looked like total crap when I first sent it to her. ^_^.

**DAY ONE**

Since moving into the bunker, one of Dean's favorite pastimes has become exploration. Every time he thinks he's found the last room, the last door, the last odd little hidden corner, he turns around only to discover eight more. He's beginning to believe the damn thing is enchanted, because there's just no way he missed this many rooms -- but if he keeps up that line of thought, he's going to start comparing the bunker to that castle with the talking clock and candlestick, and he blames Sammy so, _so_ hard for the fact that he even thought that at all.

Exploring the bunker often leads to trouble (though he will maintain until his dying breath that it was Kevin's fault when they found the harmless, but extremely irritating, pixie and it _somehow_ got loose) but Dean keeps right on doing it anyway, and that just so happens to be how he stumbles upon a kind of basement/storage room, where he just so happens to find – 

“Christmas lights!” he explains gleefully to a befuddled Castiel, as he hauls box upon box up to the main area. “And a bunch of decorations, I think.”

Sam hauls a box up onto the table and opens it curiously. “Wow, this is some really nice stuff.” He holds up an old gold-and-blue globe ornament and tries to dust it off with his sleeve. “I didn't think the Men of Letters would do anything like this.”

Dean casts Sam a cocked eyebrow that quite clearly states _Really?_ “We've found pixies, the Wicked Witch from Oz, and info on monsters we didn't even know existed -- and the thing that actually surprises you is Christmas ornaments?”

Sam shrugs. “You'd expect to find the monster crap here,” he replies easily. “Decorations? Not so much.”

“Dean?” Castiel holds up a string of multicolored Christmas lights, his head cocked in that way he never did lose in his mortality. “I don't think the use of electric lights became common until the 60s. It seems unlikely that the Men of Letters put these here.”

“No one else has been in the bunker,” Sam points out, only his last word comes out a startled yelp when the pixie explodes from the box – Dean has been wondering where the damn thing got to – and starts chattering in its tiny, high pitched voice right in front of Sam's surprised face. 

Castiel sets the lights down carefully, and holds out his hand, palm up. “Periwinkle.”

“Peri...oh, come on, you did not name that thing!” Dean stifles a groan when the annoying, five-inch blue menace willingly flies into Castiel's hand, its inane chattering slowing as it calms. It settles against Castiel's slightly curled fingers and continues to talk in a language none of them can understand, but Castiel just gives it one of his barely-there, warm little smiles, and it seems to be perfectly content with that. 

“Wink for short,” Castiel replies stubbornly. The pixie cocks its head, falling silent while Castiel speaks. “I'm not sure why the Men of Letters would lock her up for so long. Pixies are mischievous, but rarely dangerous.”

Until last week, Dean didn't even know pixies existed. Well, there was that whole incident with the fairies a couple of years ago, but Dean didn't remember pixies, specifically. He really hoped this thing didn't know the Tinkerbell he'd microwaved. “Did it bring this stuff?” Dean asks, eying the assortment of Christmas decorations with a newfound wariness. 

“She,” Castiel corrects calmly. “And it's possible. Pixies usually respond to the wishes of children, but in this case I think she latched onto _our_ thoughts, instead.”

Dean pretends to glare at the pixie, while actually watching Cas. In some ways, Castiel is still just like the angel that Dean befriended so many years ago, but in others he's rapidly developing his own brand of humanity. The way he speaks, for one thing; Dean smiles a little to himself as he realizes how much more relaxed Castiel's speech is now. He still doesn't understand more than a handful of the references used so frequently by the brothers, but he's learned to refrain from mentioning his confusion in the company of regular people. 

“I wasn't thinking about Christmas,” Sam denies, but the flush around his ears gives him away, at least to anyone who can _find_ his ears behind all that hair. “Much.”

“I was!” Kevin, who's been sitting at the far end of the table just watching, admits freely. “I was thinking how much it was going to suck here.”

“Hey, it won't suck!” Dean grabs a handful of tangled Christmas lights, and begins painstakingly separating them. Castiel gives him a knowing look with those stupid, perceptive blue eyes of his, and Dean mouths silently, _Shut your cakehole!_

Of _course_ Dean's been thinking about Christmas. For the first time since his preempted childhood, they finally have a home, and everyone he cares about is in it. Sam, Cas, even Kevin, they're all there, and they're all alive, and Dean wants to celebrate this. Besides, he finally has a place to decorate that isn't a shitty motel room, and decorations that aren't crap or stolen, and he's going to make the most of it!

“Dean, we don't even have a tree,” Sam points out, even as he reaches over to start helping with the lights. 

“We'll get one,” Dean answers. “There's all kinds of trees right outside.”

“I believe there is an ax in the garage,” Castiel mentions. He carefully sets aside a string of untangled lights and begins on another. “I found it while I was exploring.”

“Great!” Dean tries not to glare as Cas as his nimble fingers untangle two more strings before Dean's even finished his first. “Sam! You and Kevin work on this.” Throwing down his string, Dean grabs the back of Castiel's shirt and hauls him upright. The ex-angel comes easily, though he now knows to smack Dean's hand away, and it makes the hunter laugh because he doesn't so much smack as gently coax, and he always smiles at Dean like he knows the secret behind the hunter's pseudo-rough treatment. 

“Hey!” Sam picks up a handful of thoroughly tangled lights with an expression akin to horror. “How about I chop down the tree and _you_ work on these? You found them!”

Too late, Dean's already out the door and heading for the garage, and he doesn't need to look back to know that Cas is close behind. 

“I didn't expect you to celebrate Christmas,” Castiel mentions as they find the ax hidden in a corner. He takes a hold of it before Dean can grab it and sets it almost gingerly against his shoulder, testing the weight of it before nodding in satisfaction. 

Dean shrugs. “I always tried to have 'em for Sammy when we were kids, even if they were lame. And now we've got a place, so why not?” The hunter leads Cas towards the river, deciding somewhere between the door and the first few steps that he'll let the ex-angel pick the tree. He glances over to tell him this, but Castiel is already assessing the trees on his own, and Dean can't help his own odd, little smile. “It'll be fun, maybe even loosen Sam up a bit.”

Castiel fingers the ax's handle, pauses to inspect a tree close to the river before shaking his head and moving on. “I'm not sure I understand. You're not a religious man.”

_Oh, that's why he's confused?_ Dean almost rolls his eyes at himself. He should have known that was the problem. “For a lot of people, Christmas isn't even about religion,” he explains with a shrug. “It's about family, and fun, and lights and presents and spiked eggnog.”

“I see,” Castiel says slowly, in that tone that says he doesn't see at all. “I have observed a strange story about a large man in a red suit that delivers presents, is it more along those lines?”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, and the big guy is Santa Claus. It's fake magicky stuff, kinda for kids – sposta be good magic, not the stuff we deal with.”

“Good magic,” Castiel repeats, and a tiny smile touches his features, lights his eyes in a way that has Dean strangely distracted. “I like that idea.”

They're silent for a moment. Castiel stops to inspect another tree, and Dean wonders _why_ exactly he's letting the ex-angel pick. It felt almost natural to just let Cas have at it, to let him do something normal for once. He doesn't say anything when Castiel nods, apparently deciding this tree is the one, even though said tree is pretty damn tall and will be a pain in the ass to drag back to the bunker. 

“Will you teach me?” Castiel asks suddenly. He has the ax up and ready, but he pauses to give Dean that quizzical look of his, complete with the signature cocking of his head, blue eyes wide and puppy-like in his eagerness. 

“Sure,” Dean says quietly, smiling in a way he only ever does around Sam and Cas. It's too soft for the outside world, too much like Dean's inner self, and he doesn't trust anyone else to see it. He demonstrates a few good swings, letting the ax blade bite into the wood, and looks back to Cas with that smile still set firmly on his face.

Castiel smiles back, and then he sets to work on the tree.

One thing becomes very clear very quickly: the ex-angel can't wield an ax for shit.

“Give me that!” Dean finally barks, half amusement and half irritation, and Castiel willingly hands him the ax and watches as Dean sets to work. The ex-angel's swings were everywhere, each bite into the wood a good three or four inches apart, but Dean manages to land his blows in nearly the same place every time, and soon there's a crack worthy of a gunshot as the tree finally snaps and crashes to the ground.

Between the two of them they get a good grip on it before beginning the trek back to the bunker. Castiel balances the ax over one shoulder again, and Dean teaches him how to sing Jingle Bells. The ex-angel's voice is rough and low, but not as terrible as Dean thought it would be, and by the time they make it inside they're belting out songs from that old cartoon _Santa Claus is Comin' to Town_. Dean's just a little mortified that he can _remember_ these songs, but Castiel is enjoying it all so much that he can't bring himself to stop. The ex-angel's face is flushed from the cold, his eyes bright with happiness as he sings, and there's just no way Dean can make that stop.

“I remember that song!” Sam's eyes are warm as he chuckles. He looks up from the lights that they nearly have untangled. “We used to watch those specials when we were kids!”

“I liked the one with Heat Miser and Snow Miser,” Kevin mentions. The way he glances at Sam is odd, sort of nervous, but Dean doesn't have time to analyze it because Sam is laughing. Head thrown back, clutching his stomach as he roars, and Dean can't stop the grin that blooms on his face. Ever since the trials his little brother has been getting slowly better, but hearing him laugh like that eases a knot in Dean's chest he hadn't even realized was there.

“It is good to hear Sam laugh,” Castiel murmurs warmly, and Dean glances towards him, stupid grin still planted on his face, wondering if the ex-angel can still read his thoughts. 

Kevin has his head hung, muttering to himself as he untangles the last of the lights. He looks like he's pouting. Sam seems to notice, and he claps a hand Dean swears is the size of Kevin's head to the little nerd's back and assures him he's not laughing _at_ him, and then Dean tunes them out in favor of finding a tree stand. 

Somewhere between getting the tree into the stand and bringing water for it, Sam and Kevin disappear. Dean snorts, wondering what nerdy thing they're getting up to now and how it could possibly be more fun than helping him decorate. He casts his eyes around for Castiel and finds him sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of one of the boxes, carefully removing ornaments and inspecting them as though each one of them deserves his complete attention. 

“What do you think?” Dean asks, pouring water into the stand. “Got any favorites?”

Castiel nods. “I like these.” He holds up a case full of globes, each one with made with swirls of green and gold, blue and gold, red and gold... Dean eyes them, and thinks yeah, okay, those are actually pretty cool. 

“Great.” Dean sets the enormous mug he'd used for water on the table, and grabs a string of lights. “Come on, help me put these on first.”

Dean has just finished wrapping the first string through the branches when he hears Cas let out a small grunt. He turns carefully on the step ladder he'd found – the top of the tree is too high to reach without it – and then has to quickly scramble down as a laugh bubbles up in his chest. Somehow, Castiel has managed to get himself completely tangled in Christmas lights. Dean thinks maybe he started trying to hang them over his shoulders, and then the more he pulled from the table the more tangled he became, but his thought process doesn't get much further than that because the _look_ on Cas's face...

“Dean!” Castiel flails, eyes huge and decidedly unhappy, but Dean can't do anything because he's currently plastered to the floor, trying to remember where he left his ability to breathe. 

“Dean!” Cas tries again, attempting to take a wobbly step forward, but he's so completely tangled that he can't move. He focuses the full force of his stare on the hunter's shaking form, only now it looks suspiciously like a pout, and there's something about those blue eyes and stuck-out bottom lip that Dean just can't deny.

“Okay, okay!” Dean gasps, hauling himself upright and reaching for the first loose string of lights he can see. “Hold still, I'll get you out.”

Dean manages to work maybe three feet of wire and light free before he has a ridiculous idea, and plugs them in. Cas lights up like the tree they were supposed to be decorating, and the look he levels at Dean could kill an archangel stone-dead. 

Dean's on the floor again.

“ _DEAN!”_

*

Two hours, too many feet of lights, and six billion little globe ornaments later, they had a, in Dean's opinion, pretty damn good looking tree. Neither one of them want to put up an angel at the top, since it could be generally agreed upon that angels were douches, but Castiel found an unbelievably fancy star at the bottom of one of the boxes, and he is currently standing on the step ladder, straining to reach the top of the tree, while Dean tries not to think too closely on the fact that his hand is probably a little too low on the ex-angel's lower back.

“Almost there.” Cas leans forward a bit further, and Dean brings his other hand up to splay it across Cas's stomach because damn it, he's going to topple over and take the tree with him! “Careful, Cas.”

“I'm fine,” Castiel mutters, miffed. He takes his new humanity very seriously, and has decided that any time Dean or Sam -- or anyone, really – expresses concern, it is somehow an affront to his capability. It should be annoying, but for some stupid reason it always makes Dean grin.

“Fine, you're perfect, just get it up there already.”

Cas twists his head around to glare at Dean, but there is an amusement in his eyes that softens the look to something almost playful. When he turns, though, the ornament slips from his hand. He makes a grab for it, forcing Dean to throw his arms around Cas's waist to keep him from toppling off the ladder, and when the ornament shatters Dean can _feel_ the ex-angel's dejection in the way he slumps over Dean's arm.

“Hey, it's okay.” Before Dean can think it through he uses his grip to hug the ex-angel, telling himself he can always deny that's what he was doing later by claiming he was just trying to keep Cas from falling over. “It's not like it needs a topper.”

But Cas is still slumped, in fact he's beginning to sort of ooze off the stepladder, so Dean makes him step down and carefully slings an arm around his shoulder. “You okay?” 

Castiel turns his face away, but Dean can still see the dejection all too clearly. It's not like a regular accident, Dean thinks. Everything for Cas is ten times worse because he doesn't have any experience with it at all; regular comfort just isn't going to cut it.

So Dean does the only thing he can think of. He takes the extra Christmas lights, gets himself good and tangled, and plugs himself in. 

Cas stares at him, wide eyed with disbelief, for all of three seconds before he's falling to his knees, sitting back on his ankles and clutching his stomach as he throws his head back and laughs harder than Dean's ever seen before. 


	2. Chapter 2

**The Second Day of Christmas**

The bunker is dead silent when Dean wakes up, but that's not necessarily unusual. Kevin and Sam have this weird habit of waking up early and sitting at the table with their coffee, going through books like it's the best thing in the world. Cas, who has not only learned to use the stereo but discovered singing in the shower as well, also seems to stay rather quiet in the morning. Well, mostly -- Dean chuckles to himself as he pokes his head into the kitchen (no one there) – because there was that one time Cas decided to try and sing “Hey Jude” to wake Dean up for a hunt. 

There's no one in the main room, either, just the softly glowing Christmas lights and a few abandoned cups of coffee. Dean checks first Sam, then Cas, and finally Kevin's rooms. Nothing. 

What the hell?

Finally, Dean throws on his coat and heads outside, the first pangs of worry starting to eat at his gut. Said pangs quickly change to irritation with a garnish of amusement when he opens the door and is greeted with a handful of snow to the face.

“Good one, Cas!” Sam crows, and then sputters when Kevin smacks him in the face with a snowball as well. “ _Hey!_ ”

Overnight, the world has gone from a dull green to a shocking white. Dean steps out and watches his boot sink into over a foot of snow, grinning down at it. He wipes the melting snow from his face, and casts his eyes around until they land on Cas. At some point the ex-angel learned how to grin with abandon, and it's amazing how it lights his eyes and makes him seem almost boyish. He's forming another snowball in gloved hands. Dean reaches down to scoop up handfuls of his own, and the game is on.

Cas's hair is full of snow and Dean is slipping over ice and his own feet, laughing hysterically, when Kevin and Sam decide to gang up on him. Sam launches a snowball the size of his head at Dean's chest, and when Dean goes down with a grunt Kevin drops into a crouch and starts hurling snow like a machine, his hands a blur as they shovel icy white into Dean's face. The hunter is alternatively choking and laughing like a madman, and he's so busy just trying to fend off the onslaught enough to stand that he almost misses Castiel's sneak attack. The ex-angel darts around behind Sam, slapping a double handful of snow over his head and down the back of his shirt, and while Sam's flailing and yelping Cas dives forward, sliding through the snow like a damn seal, palms held out in such a manner that his momentum sprays a massive wave of white over Kevin. 

“Hell yeah, get 'em Cas!” Dean whoops, scrambling to his feet as Castiel pops up and dives behind a snow drift before Kevin or Sam can react. Dean throws himself after the ex-angel, scrubbing his hands together because he didn't think to grab gloves before this war began. 

“Here.” Cas thrusts a pair of insulated leather gloves at Dean, and the hunter slides them on gratefully. He doesn't even bother to ask why Castiel has a spare set in his pocket, because it's just such a _Cas_ thing to do.

Castiel's face is set and serious, in fact if Dean didn't know where to look – or, for that matter, how to speak the language of Castiel – he would've thought it was the ex-angel's hunting face. But Dean _does_ know where to look, and he can see the sparkle in Cas's wide blue gaze, the smoothing of tiny wrinkles around his eyes that means he's enjoying himself immensely. Sure, Castiel has learned how to grin, Dean thinks with a grin of his own, but when he really gets focused on something he goes all Angel of the Lord over it, no matter how human or amused he may actually be. 

“Hiding is cheating!” Kevin yells. Dean peeks over the safety of the drift and sees Kevin with a snowball packed and ready in his fist. Sam is still squirming, and Dean suspects some of the snow went down his pants. He claps Cas on the shoulder in congratulations and scoops up a handful of snow, which is much easier now that his hands aren't threatening to turn blue. 

He's getting ready to hurl his new ammo when Cas's hand on his wrist stops him. The ex-angel shakes his head, and now there's mischief dancing in his eyes. He begins building snow balls, one after the other, and Dean catches on and helps him until they have a sizable pile.

“Ready?” Cas whispers, and when Dean nods they begin throwing in earnest.

It takes Kevin and Sam all of two seconds to realize where the snowballs are coming from, but the rapid-fire volley is making it difficult for them to get close. Dean laughs until he can barely breathe even as he continues to fire, and Castiel's serious expression is beginning to break down, tiny chuckles growing until he's outright laughing, collapsing under the force of it. He falls onto his back, arms thrown out on either side of him, one hand resting against Dean's side as he drops his head into the snow and just _laughs._ Dean stops firing, stunned by the red glow that the cold air has drawn on to Castiel's cheeks, the joy in his wide blue eyes as he turns to grin at Dean, how comfortable the hand feels as it curls into his coat. Something inside Dean stops dead, and then abruptly begins studiously inspecting a long-established heterosexuality for holes.

He might start to panic a little at that point.

Two giant armloads of freezing cold land on top of them, and Dean sets aside his freak out for another moment. Preferably one that isn't filled with him trying to rub his smug brother's face in the snow.

Sam shrieks, but Dean has successfully tackled his brother the squid-limbed giant around the knees, and he's currently climbing up his back, grabbing handfuls of Sam's stupidly long hair and pushing his face towards the freezing ground. “Kevin! Help!”

Dean snorts, but then Kevin pulls a Karate Kid on him and suddenly he's on his back, gasping for air, while Sam scrambles to his feet and Kevin pelts him with loose snow. Fortunately, they've both forgotten about Castiel again, and while Dean blindly scoops flurries of snow at his attackers Castiel yanks open the back of Sam's shirt and deliberately dumps a handful of frozen stuff into it. 

“ _Cas_ – damnit --” Sam frantically yanks at the hem of his shirt and shimmies, trying to get the snow out, and while he's distracted Castiel tackles Kevin and proceeds to bury his head in the snow. Dean can't stop laughing again, can't even stand up because Kevin's arms are flailing as he sputters and curses, and Sam is still wriggling in place and slapping at his own back, and this just might be the best day ever.

Castiel pushes himself to his feet and stands back to survey his handiwork, and now there's a smug smirk on his face that Dean's never seen before, but it makes the panic well up in his chest again because he wants to do crazy things right now -- like jump up and pull Cas into a hug, maybe kiss one red cheek before...

Well, shit. 

Dean barely stops himself from burying his face in his hands because now he _knows_ he's screwed. Not just because he thought of kissing Castiel, but because of how he thought of it. Kissing a girl on the cheek was something Dean had only done twice in his entire life, once with Cassie and once with Lisa, because they'd meant more to him than any other chick he'd slept with. 

And Cas... well, Cas means more to him than anyone else in the world, except Sammy -- and the fact that he's managed to work his way so close to Dean that he shares space with Sam means Dean isn't just screwed. He's royally and completely fucked.

The four finally pile back inside, retreating to their separate rooms for dry clothes, and eventually they end up at the table, all gathered at one end of it because none of them are very good at spreading out. Sam disappears into the kitchen, and just as Dean is about to get up to see what he's doing he comes back with a tray of steaming mugs. 

“Coffee?” Dean asks hopefully.

“Hot chocolate,” Sammy responds, setting one cup down in front of him. 

Normally Dean doesn't care for hot chocolate, but the morning has been going in such a manner that he decides it sounds fantastic right now. He watches Sam hand out the other cups, grinning to himself when Castiel latches onto his eagerly – the ex-angel has one hell of a sweet tooth – but Sam shakes his head before Cas can take a sip.

“Hang on, Cas.” Sam sets the tray down and pulls something from his coat pocket...candy canes. 

Dean can't help it, he starts laughing again, but he takes the one Sam hands him and breaks off a chunk to drop into his hot chocolate. “When did you get these?”

“A few days ago, I kind of forgot about them. They only had three canes at the store, though, so...” Sam trails off as he pulls out one of those thick peppermint sticks. Suddenly Dean can't breathe because Cas is looking at it with wide, delighted eyes, and without any ado at all he snatches it from Sam's hands with a hurried “Thank you”, rips off the plastic, and deep throats the damn thing. 

Dean wonders if this is what it's like to have a heart attack.

The thick stick of candy has to be at least five or six inches long, and at least half of it has disappeared into Castiel's mouth. Dean watches with a frantic kind of desperation as Cas's lips purse around the red and white stripes, as his throat works and... oh god, yup, there's a tongue there, peeking out for just a moment when Cas draws the stick back, licking at the tip as the ex-angel closes his eyes and lets out a pleased moan. 

“Um...Dean? You okay?”

Dean glances over at Sam, who has stopped mid-stir with his candy cane to stare with concern at his brother. His nice, regular sized candy cane, why the hell couldn't he have just given Cas that one? It takes him a moment, but Dean realizes he's gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles are turning white, and he lets go and begins stirring his cocoa at a ridiculous speed. Little brown drops spray over the tabletop. “Fine, I'm good,” he mumbles.

The hunter makes the mistake of glancing at Castiel again. The peppermint stick is back in his mouth, only this time the ex-angel's eyes are open, and they're watching Dean. The gaze is perfectly innocent, just a normal, ever-curious Cas-stare, but Dean's imagination turns it into something sly and sexy, and he can't drink his cocoa fast enough. 

He's just manly enough not to scream when it scalds everything from his tongue to the back of his throat. He does make some sort of low squawking noise, though.

“Dude, you cool?” Kevin asks, in a tone of voice that says he knows Dean is a moron, he's just not sure what the exact cause of his stupidity is at the moment, though he fully intends to put it under a microscope and study it until he finds the source. 

“Are you alright, Dean?” Castiel has removed that evil, evil candy from his mouth, and his eyes are wide and genuinely concerned. Sam is just snickering, and Dean suddenly has a gut-punching idea of just why Cas is holding that particular piece of candy.

“Yeah, I'm good, Cas,” Dean says with a weak smile, ignoring the tightness in his voice from the burning in his throat as intently as he is ignoring everyone else at the table. 

Castiel smiles, apparently satisfied, and swallows down his candy again.

Dean's chair clatters to the floor as he runs for the bathroom.

*

Ten minutes and one frantic date with his right hand later, Dean is leaning against the bathroom sink, staring into his own eyes in the mirror as he tries to figure out just exactly how this happened. He's having zero luck, because he's slowly realizing it wasn't one exact thing that caused it. He wonders how long this has been building, so slow and ninja-stealthy that he hadn't noticed it until the precise moment that it finally struck him, full and in his face. Had it begun years ago, when Cas pulled him from Hell? The first time he rebelled for Dean? 

Does it even matter?

Dean groans and slaps a hand over his eyes. No, he decides, it doesn't matter. It happened, and it just is, and he supposes there's no point in really freaking out about it at all. So Cas is a dude, so what. He's still the only person besides Sammy who's ever stuck beside Dean no matter the circumstance, the one who makes him laugh over the most ridiculous things, the angel turned human who can speak too many languages and remembers moments in history that happened thousands of years ago, but can't work a microwave or navigate a computer to save his life. The guy who knows exactly when to leave Dean alone, and when to bring him coffee and push until he talks, who won't take Dean's shit and gives as good as he gets...

Dean's hand falls from his face and he meets his own eyes again, as a bizarre sort of calm blankets the panic still trying its best to overwhelm him. Right. This is way worse than he'd thought, and it has the potential to be the best thing ever. Cas can be something permanent, like the Impala or Sammy or this bunker. This is something that can _work_.

A grin begins to form unbidden on his face, and he decides it will work, so long as... but no, he doesn't let himself think about any potential lack of reciprocation, because then he'll start thinking of all the reasons he shouldn't do it, and for some reason he doesn't want that. 

By the time he returns to the main room Sam has disappeared, and Kevin and Cas are leaning over the table, talking quietly. Cas is smiling, one of his tiny smiles that says he's a little confused, but also very on board with whatever is being discussed, and it makes Dean curious as hell. Not to mention, more than a little suspicious.

“What are you girls gossiping about?” Dean asks as he throws himself into a chair beside Cas. 

“Nothing!” Kevin squeaks, and he waves his hands frantically when Castiel frowns and opens his mouth. “Nothing, just, you know, shopping stuff. I mean, if we're gonna have Christmas we need presents, right?”

Slowly, Cas shuts his mouth, but continues to frown in confusion. Dean notices a large portion of the peppermint stick is still intact, and it juts up from Castiel's empty cup to point straight at Dean. 

“Good point,” Dean agrees. Oh god, what is he going to get for Cas? What would Cas _want?_ The ex-angel is terrible at asking for things he wants. “Sam's easy, but what do you want, Kevin?”

Kevin looks pleasantly surprised. “Um...I don't actually know,” he says. “I'll think about it. What, um...what would Sam want?”

Castiel opens his mouth again, only to have Kevin cut his hand across his throat in a sharp _shut the fuck up!_ motion, and Dean wonders if there's a clue bus around here somewhere he can hitch a friggin' ride with, because _come on_. “All right, then. Something nerdy,” Dean says with a shrug, ignoring the glare Kevin tosses his way. “We can go shopping later, I'll show you.”

“Yeah... okay.” Kevin smiles a little, his eyes cutting away from Dean and towards Sam's room, and okay, yeah, Dean really needs that clue bus to show up right about fucking _now_.

“What would you like for Christmas, Dean?” Castiel asks.

Dean doesn't answer for a long time because he can't think of anything. He has Sammy, Cas, Kevin, the bunker, his car... the only thing he can think of is still too new, and he almost flushes when he glances at Cas and thinks of... nope, no, not going there yet.

“Surprise me,” Dean says finally, with a shrug like it's no big deal, but something bright and happy flashes in Castiel's eyes, and it makes Dean wonder what he has up his sleeve.

“I would like that as well,” Castiel says before Dean can ask what he wants, and sometimes Dean wonders if the ex-angel can still read his mind somehow. 

Great. Dean lets his head fall back, because it's safer than watching Cas pick up his peppermint stick and suck on it some more. What in the hell is he going to get Cas? It couldn't just be some random thing, it's his first Christmas present! 

Without saying a word, Dean gets up and wanders in the direction of Sam's room. The door is open, and Dean can see his enormous little brother stretched out on his bed, his laptop on one side, a book open in front of him. The older hunter smiles fondly while Sammy can't see him. As much as he teases Sam for being nerdy, it's what makes Sam _Sam_ , and Dean loves him for it no matter what he says. 

Since the door is open, Dean strides in and throws himself down into a chair. Sam refused to 'move in' for the first few months, but slowly things are beginning to appear in his room. Pictures of the four of them that have been recently taken are scattered across the walls, a book shelf with something more than research piled into it is tucked close to the bed, there's even a Game of Thrones poster from the DVD box set he'd bought last month. When Sam looks up from his book, eyebrows raised in question, Dean can't help the grin that's half mocking and half stupidly pleased.

“Shut up, jerk,” Sam says without venom.

“I didn't say anything, bitch!” Dean protests with a chuckle. “Hey, what are you getting Cas for Christmas?”

Sam smirks. He ducks his head to hide it, but Dean sees the tail end of it before Sam's hair swallows his face. “Not sure yet. He's hard to shop for, he never says what he wants.”

“I know!” Dean can't help the way it explodes out of him, and he hopes Sam doesn't notice. “We gotta teach him it's okay to ask for things.”

Sam nods in agreement, and when he flips back his hair all traces of the smirk are gone. “I was thinking about getting him some stuff for his room. All he has in there are pictures of us -- well. Mostly you.” There it is again, just a quick grin and it's gone, and Dean's eyes narrow but he doesn't say anything. 

“I know he likes to read,” Sam continues, as though nothing happened. “I found him reading a book of Greek myths last week. And I found out a few days ago that he's discovered Doctor Who.”

The only reason Dean knows the show is because on the rare occasions Sam managed to wrestle the remote from him, he would randomly watch it. Somehow it doesn't surprise him at all that Cas likes it. “Which one's his favorite?” Dean asks, rolling his eyes and trying his best to make it look like he's asking so he can mock Cas later.

“Ten,” Sam answers instantly, and Dean firmly pretends that he didn't just file that information away for later.

Something on the page apparently catches Sam's attention because suddenly he's zoned in on his book, seemingly forgetting Dean's there at all. Dean just rolls his eyes fondly and leaves him to it. 

He has bigger things to worry about, anyway. 


	3. Chapter 3

**The Third Day of Christmas**

 

Dean's morning starts normally. Everyone agreed to go shopping that day, only that was an hour ago and no one has quite made it to the car yet. It's one of those lazy days, Dean notes with a bizarre sort of satisfaction as he watches everyone from his spot at the end of the table. Sam is lounging in a chair by the bookshelf, reading a fiction book instead of doing research, for once. Castiel keeps wandering in from one door and disappearing through another, and Dean has no idea what he's doing but the small, happy smile that appears on the ex-angel's face every time he shows up in the main room makes it so he doesn't really care. Kevin is half-asleep at the other end of the table, cheek resting against his fist as he stares unseeingly at something on his laptop screen. Dean's half tempted to see if he's watching porn, but thinks maybe that's giving the little nerd too much credit. 

Castiel wanders in again, this time from the kitchen. There's a steaming mug in his hands now, and he takes it over to the table and sits down next to Dean. The personal space issue stopped being an issue a long time ago, but since Dean had his little epiphany it's raising a whole new set of problems. Like suddenly feeling way too hot. Just as an example.

“Hey Cas,” Dean says casually, his tone betraying nothing of his sudden discomfort. 

Castiel smiles at him, and Dean kind of loves how easily that expression comes to him now. It took a misadventure in a brothel for Dean to wrestle out the first tiny one, and even after that they'd still been few and far between for the next couple of years. 

“Is coffee addictive?” Castiel asks before he takes a sip from his mug.

“Probably,” Dean answers with a shrug. He peers into Castiel's cup and rolls his eyes; cream and probably sugar, just like Sam. “Dude, come on.”

Castiel smiles again over the rim of his mug, and the expression is so fond that Dean can't decide whether to glance away in embarrassment or just keep staring at Cas like he usually does. “Just because you like it a certain way does not mean I should, Dean,” Castiel says. 

When Sam says that Dean just keeps right on giving him grief, but when Castiel says it like that, with that damn fondness shining so obviously in his eyes...well, it makes it a whole lot harder to argue with him. 

“What should I get for Sam and Kevin?” Castiel asks quietly after a moment. 

Good question. Dean steals Castiel's cup and takes a sip, and the former angel doesn't seem to mind. “Kevin's Ipod broke last week,” he mentions. “That'd be a good thing to get for him. Sam...I don't know, we'll take a look when we get to the mall.”

Castiel nods and takes his mug back, and Dean tries really, _really_ hard not to notice that he takes a drink from the exact same place that Dean just did. 

It's nearly noon before they finally make it to the car, and Dean's day decides to stop being normal when Castiel claims shotgun.

“I...what?” Dean sputters, because Sam sits in the front seat. Sammy _always_ sits in the front seat.

Castiel meets his eyes calmly over the Impala, his hand curled around the door handle, ready to pull it open. Sam, Dean notes curiously, has already walked past Cas and is climbing without complaint into the back seat. 

“I don't mind, Dean,” Sam says with a shrug. Dean doesn't miss the way Sam's lips are twitching in the effort to hold back a smile, but all he does is glare at his baby brother as he climbs in the driver's side. 

In the hour it takes to drive to the mall, Kevin and Sam chat about their recent research while Dean tries desperately to pay more attention to the road than to Castiel. It's exceedingly difficult. Now that he knows... _that_... it's like he can't stop looking at Cas in new ways. He's never noticed the details of his hands – they're a little smaller than Dean's, less calloused, long fingers, thin wrists – or how the ex-angel has a habit of shoving them in his pockets when he's uncertain of himself. He's never put all that much thought into the way Castiel stares at him, or how Dean himself stares back. It was always something odd and kind of uncomfortable, and now Dean finds himself questioning exactly _why_ it was so uncomfortable. Because it was... intimate? He shies away from the word, even as he glances towards Castiel. He's sitting there with his hands in his lap, blue eyes curious as they stare out the window. Dean remembers how he looked yesterday, red-faced and grinning like a fool, and he wonders what it would take to get Cas to smile like that again.

Crap. He is so screwed.

The mall isn't the largest Dean's ever seen, but it isn't tiny either, and he quickly looses sight of Kevin and Sam as they take off excitedly in separate directions. Cas stays close, his eyes wide and round as they dart everywhere, trying to see everything at once. The place is decked out in Christmas decorations, red and green and gold splashed over everything in sight, and Dean can vaguely hear Christmas carols over the dull roar of people's conversations and a multitude of steps on the tile floor. He tries to subtly watch where Castiel's eyes linger, but it's difficult with the way they're zipping around all over the place. 

“You wanna split up?” he asks after a moment. “Can't really surprise each other if we're right here.”

Cas nods absently, and stays glued to Dean's side. “Not yet. Help me find something for Sam first.”

Dean ends up guiding them into a Radio Shack, where they each buy two $25 iTunes cards, and Cas gets the new Ipod for Kevin like Dean suggested. They decide on some trivia board game for Sam, something Dean barely glances at beyond the fact that it would probably make Sam think, and therefore Sam would like it. Dean considers sticking to just the cards, but then he ends up getting a 32GB USB drive for Sam's computer because he'd heard him bitching about not having anywhere to back up some files last month. 

The guy at the cash register offers to gift wrap everything, and Dean says yes because his idea of wrapping involves rolling it up in newspaper until it's no longer visible. Castiel watches this whole process as if it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, leaning so far over the counter that he's practically in the guy's face. Instead of being put off by Castiel's usual complete disregard for personal space, the guy seems charmed by the ex-angel's eagerness. He even slides everything closer and shows Castiel how to fold the corners so that it doesn't look sloppy, and if Dean's grinning stupidly the whole time, well, no one else needs to know. 

They leave the Radio Shack and Dean's about to suggest they split up again when his eyes land on a shop directly across from them. It's one of those fancy candy shops, with specialty chocolates and rows upon rows of high quality candies lining the walls, and even though Dean _knows_ it's a bad idea he grabs Castiel's wrist – wrist, not his hand; he's not that far gone, damn it – and drags him towards the sugar overdose just waiting to happen.

The second they step through the doorway Castiel's eyes widen in delight, and that grin Dean has been hoping to see springs to life. 

“Thought you might like this,” Dean says, eying the chocolates thoughtfully because he knows Sammy has a soft spot for them. Particularly anything with coconut. Does Kevin like chocolate? Dean pulls out his phone and starts to text Sam the question before he even really thinks it through.

“There are so many,” Castiel murmurs. He reaches forward and touches the glass separating them from the rows of chocolates; milk, orange, coconut, caramel, you name it, Dean thinks they must have it. There are even decorative Christmas chocolates laid out in one corner, at the top. 

Dean's phone beeps, and when he flips it open Sam's text tells him that Kevin likes dark chocolate and anything with caramel, and _don't spoil Cas_. Dean snorts and snaps the phone shut. Sam's probably worried about Castiel's teeth or something equally inane. 

A young woman approaches the counter. She's well enough endowed, and her eyes bright enough, that Dean should be all over her. As it is, he barely looks away from Cas long enough to smile. She smiles back, and asks them if they'd like anything. Castiel's eyes widen even further, and he looks so torn over which one of the chocolates to choose that Dean makes a rash decision.

“One of everything,” he says. So much for not spoiling Cas. Sam's gonna have a field day. 

Castiel looks ecstatic, and that alone makes it worth it. The girl has almost the same expression on her face, and Dean wonders how much he's about to pay for this. Well, how much their latest card fraud victim is about to pay for it, anyway. He thinks maybe he should feel guilty about that, but then again it's probably far too late in the game for that.

One of everything takes up a sizable bag and costs almost two hundred dollars, but Dean doesn't care because the look on Castiel's face just keeps getting better. He's practically beaming as he bites into a black forest chocolate, and when he closes his eyes and moans softly at the taste Dean has to think of every nasty, ugly-ass monster he's ever fought to keep from chubbing in his jeans right then and there. 

“These are excellent,” Castiel says happily. He holds out the bag to Dean. “Would you like one?”

Dean starts to say _nah, those are for you_ , but the former angel looks so eager to share that he reaches in and grabs one at random. It turns out to be a cherry cordial, and he has to admit that they are pretty good.

They finally split up to find each other their presents, and Dean can't help the chuckle that bubbles up from his chest as Castiel walks away with one hand shoved into his bag of chocolates like a giant five year old. 

The hunter wanders from store to store for what feels like hours, frustration slowly building because _nothing_ _fucking_ _fits_. He's seen plenty of things that Castiel would like, but nothing that's... _enough._ He meanders into a bookstore without really paying attention, and almost doesn't see Kevin placing a box set down on the counter. Dean leans a little to the side to see it better. It's the Game of Thrones series, and Dean knows Sam has the DVDs but thinks Kevin probably made a good call. The giant nerd always did like a book better than the TV.

Cas is somewhere in the middle, Dean thinks as he begins glancing through the fantasy section. He will always willingly follow Dean into his room to watch whatever movie Dean feels like, and he usually seems to genuinely enjoy them, even if he does feel the need to comment on _every_ historical inaccuracy. Yet Dean has also seen him read for hours – _Take that Sam, I already knew that he reads! –_ and whether he's doing research or reading fiction, he always seems to become completely absorbed in the material. 

He's thinking this when his eyes land on a set of books that make him pause. It's a unique box set of Lord of the Rings sitting on top of the shelf, one that includes the movies and a poster of one of the maps from the book. Dean takes it down and inspects it. Castiel does seem to have an affinity for fantasy, and the good vs evil aspect of the story would probably appeal to him. 

He buys it before he can talk himself out of it. It's the only thing he's found that's even close to good enough, anyway.

Everyone meets in the food court, and no one can decide what to eat. Sam whines about a lack of healthy choices, while Castiel appears to argue with himself over whether to chose DQ or some Chinese looking thing that Dean doesn't even want to get near. Kevin decides to go for pizza, and drags a resistant Sam with him, while Dean wanders towards a KFC. The four end up piled at a table with their assortment of foods, and Dean lets Castiel steal bits of chicken while he takes some of the ex-angel's fries.

It's so disturbingly cozy and family-like that Dean forgets to be disturbed by all the... _closeness_.

Afterward, Dean wants to leave, but Kevin has mysteriously vanished, and Castiel has him by one coat sleeve so he can drag him off through the crowds as he talks excitedly about something he found while he was looking for Dean's present. The hunter lets Cas pull him wherever, secretly amused by how child-like Castiel can be sometimes, especially now that he's human. 

Castiel finally stops, and Dean laughs when he sees it's a fountain that has Cas so excited. Granted, it's a pretty cool fountain. It looks like it's made out of marble, a deep green and black, and the water bubbles out from circular levels that start out fairly large and get smaller as they build upwards. Dean peers over the edge and sees a considerably amount of coinage scattered across the bottom, and he doesn't miss the way Castiel cocks his head curiously over that.

“You make a wish and throw a coin in the water,” Dean explains. He shoves a hand in his pocket, comes up with a few nickels, and hands two of them to Castiel. “Here, give it a go.”

Castiel stares at the coins in his hand thoughtfully, and then gives a small, secretive smile and throws both of them into the water. When Dean cocks an eyebrow in question, Castiel says simply, “I wished for a special thing for Christmas.”

Dean rolls his eyes, and does pretty much exactly the same thing.

The ride back to the bunker results in Castiel sitting in the front seat again, and Kevin and Sam are now arguing about the difference between peppermint and spearmint. Dean doesn't even want to know. They even try to draw Castiel into it, but the ex-angel is staring out the window with a distant, content expression on his face and doesn't seem to hear them. When Dean gestures at them to leave Cas alone, for once they actually listen. 

Everyone puts their already-wrapped presents under the tree, and then Sam sneaks off with a huge grin on his face that makes Dean painfully suspicious. Kevin is trying to hide a snicker behind his hand, and Dean wishes yet again that he knew where the damn clue bus stopped. He really would like to get on.

“Dean?” Castiel appears beside him, his brows furrowed in a little frown of confusion. “Why is Sam so excited about the mistletoe he purchased at the mall?”

Aw, crap. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might take me a little while to get the next few chapters out, I'm working A LOT this week. X_X

**The Fourth Day of Christmas**

There's mistletoe hanging over the doorway when Dean comes back from the store. He scowls at it, and checks to make sure no one is heading towards the door before he takes his purchase into the kitchen.

Eggnog, Dean thinks as he sets his grocery sacks on the counter, is an essential part of Christmas. _Alcoholic_ eggnog is an essential part of being a Winchester, which is why Dean removes an old metal pitcher from one cabinet before he begins mixing copious amounts of rum into a much smaller portion of eggnog.

Castiel appears in the doorway, an empty mug in his hand, and pauses to cock his head curiously at Dean. He sets the cup down on the counter and steps into Dean's personal bubble, peering over Dean's shoulder in a manner that means his cheek his no more than half an inch away from pressing into Dean's. The hunter pulls in a quiet breath and tries his best not to focus too much on just how close Cas is, or how he can feel the heat radiating from his body, or...

“What are you doing, Dean?”

_Perving all over you?_ Dean thinks, and then he shakes himself. Taking a step back to let Cas know he needs to move causes his back to brush against Castiel's chest, and Dean bites the inside of his cheek and thinks about zombies. He sets the remaining carton of eggnog in the fridge before carrying the spiked eggnog out to the table, setting it on the end closest to the tree. He doesn't look back because he knows Cas is following him. “You ever had eggnog, Cas?”

The ex-angel shakes his head. Dean grins. “You're in for a treat.”

The hunter drags Sammy away from his laptop and Kevin away from his books, and while they're both whining about cataloging and researching and other such things Dean has absolutely no interest in, Cas just sits there, smiling faintly, his blue eyes warm as he watches his bizarre little family. It makes Dean feel stupidly happy. He tries his best to cover it with his usual rough attitude, only he thinks Castiel has learned to see right through him at this point. He probably took lessons from Sam.

Kevin gets tipsy almost immediately. He starts yammering on about some demon he'd been researching, and then suddenly blurts out that they should play a game. Dean cocks an eyebrow, but Sam latches onto the idea immediately. He turns to Dean with a huge grin and declares, “We should play I Never.”

Dean thinks that might be equal parts the worst and greatest idea ever. He goes into the kitchen and brings back four shot glasses and the rum, setting down the bottle with a soft thump right in front of Sam.

“We should play what?” Castiel asks curiously, cocking his head at the rum and reaching out to touch the bottle with one finger.

“It's called I Never, Cas,” Sam explains patiently. He pours them all a shot, shaking his head when Castiel hesitantly reaches for his. “You say something you've never done, and anyone that _has_ done it has to drink. See?”

“I believe so,” Cas says with a nod.

“Great, okay.” A grin that is truly evil settles over Sam's face, and Dean eyes him a little warily, only he thinks this whole thing could be worth it for what they might find out about Cas. Which is probably almost nothing, but still. “I'll go first.” He sits back, fingering his shot glass absently, and then says, “I never kissed a girl in the janitor's closet.”

Dean's eyes narrow because that is just too mild, and that means Sam is building up to something major, but he takes his glass and shoots back the alcohol. And then nearly spits it back out when Kevin does the same.

“You?” Dean raises both eyebrows incredulously, but Kevin just rolls his eyes.

“Dude, I'm smart,” Kevin says with a shrug. “It gets you places.”

Sam grins and claps Kevin on the shoulder, and Dean doesn't miss the flush that spreads over the little nerd's face. “My turn,” Kevin says as Sam pours out more shots. “I never kissed a guy.”

Sam blushes so hard he nearly turns purple, and takes a shot. Kevin's eyes try their best to turn into plates, and Dean grins hugely because this? This is the best ammo he's had in ages. “Spill, Sammy!”

“Kissed a man where?” Castiel asks, and okay, Dean's attention has officially diverted.

Kevin blinks, and then says in a giggling rush, “On the lips!”

“Oh.” Castiel releases his glass, and Dean's head is whipping back and forth between the two of them because now he can't figure out which story to get first.

“Cas?” He says finally, if only because the ex-angel isn't likely to be embarrassed, and therefore will speak more quickly than Sam.

“It was while you were trying to find me,” Castiel says immediately, and sure enough, there isn't a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “I stayed in a homeless shelter for a night, and a man called Eric was very kind to me. He shared what little food he had, as well as his bedding.”

“Wait wait, his bedding?” Dean repeats with a raised eyebrow, and Cas nods.

“Yes, there were no spare blankets, and it was very cold,” Castiel replies. “I believe he was also lonely. I had nothing to give him in return, and I remembered in some of those movies you made me watch that people would kiss each other on the cheek in gratitude, so I did that. I did not realize it isn't normal for men to do this to each other.”

“Not in America, anyway,” Sam adds. “It's actually pretty common in other countries. What did he do?”

“He laughed,” Castiel replies. “And told me I was sweet. And then suggested that I not try that again, and explained why.”

Dean realizes he's tensed, and relaxes when he hears this. His fingers uncurl from the tight fist they'd formed. Good. He really doesn't want to be tracking down some guy for punching Cas for being... well, Cas.

“Okay.” Dean swings his head around to face Sammy, his best shit-eating grin on his face. “Your turn!”

Sams' face is slowly returning to its original color, but when Dean locks the full force of his stare on him the redness flares again. Dean swears he can feel the heat of it from where he sits. “It was... ” Sam shifts, poking his empty glass and then grabbing the rum again to distract himself. “I'd been in Stanford for a few months, and this guy I had a few classes with came up and asked me out. I'd never really thought about it before, so I figured it couldn't hurt, you know? I mean, you're supposed to experiment in college. It was nice, but we never got much farther than kissing.”

Sam pours out another drink for himself and Kevin and shrugs, pointedly refusing to meet Dean's eyes, but Dean still catches it when something delighted flares in them, and the older hunter knows he's in trouble when the turn comes back around to his baby brother.

“Your turn, Cas,” Sam says, plunking the bottle down hard and glaring daggers at Dean, who just continues to grin. He's soaking this one up for as long as he can.

“I never... ” Cas pauses, brow furrowing as he considers, and then he slumps forward with a sigh. “There are so many things I have never done.”

Dean refuses, flat out _refuses_ , to admit to the way his heart clenches at that, and instead says lightly, “It's okay, Cas, just say something that we might have done, 'cause then we have to drink.”

Castiel perks up a little at that. “I never masturbated in the back seat of the Impala,” he says, beaming.

Sam laughs, and then chokes when Dean throws back his shot. “WHAT? Dude, I sleep back there sometimes!”

“I hate you right now,” Dean snarls at Cas, though there's hardly any venom in his tone. “I never appeared naked and covered in bees on the hood of the Impala!”

Castiel drinks, and Kevin's eyebrows attempt to kiss his hair. Sam explains, quietly and quickly, Castiel's temporary bout with madness, though the ex-angel doesn't seem to mind.

“But...why bees?” Kevin asks anyway.

“I was communing with nature,” Castiel replies easily. “What Dean doesn't seem to understand is that the experience was not at all embarrassing to me, not even now.”

Sam refills Castiel's shot glass, and then turns to Dean with a smile that is so darkly delighted the older hunter finds himself repressing a shudder.

“I never,” Sam says slowly, almost ecstatically, “Wore women's underwear.”

Dean mentally flails, because how the...and when did he...what the...smacking his inner half-monologue until it shuts up, Dean takes his shot glass and drinks, firmly ignoring the loud thump as Kevin laughs so hard he falls off his seat.

“Were they comfortable?” Castiel asks, because that _would_ be what he'd want to know, and Dean buries his face in his hands and wishes he would disappear while Sam roars and pounds the table so hard he nearly upends the rum.

While the two nerds are laughing, Dean shifts one hand enough to whisper, “Kinda, yeah.” Then he turns to bark “You two girls done giggling yet?” He drops his hands and wills his face into something mocking, like he's somehow the one with the upper hand here. Sam pushes himself upright and shakily pours more rum into Dean's shot glass, and Kevin climbs, still gasping, back into his chair.

“I never.” Kevin pauses to giggle, and Dean almost rolls his eyes. Light weight. “I never had public sex!”

Dean starts to reach for his glass, but then pauses and asks, “Does a bar bathroom count?”

“It does,” Kevin and Sam say at the same time, and Dean snorts and tosses back his shot, and then almost spits it out again when Sam does as well. Great. Second time he's almost lost valuable booze.

“When I was soulless,” Sam says quietly, his eyes darkening and his head drooping forward so that he looks like a kicked puppy, and Dean just has to clap him on the back and smile, a real, sincere smile. It does the trick; Sam lights up at seeing something so genuine from Dean, and he's smiling again as Cas considers what to say.

“I never ate pie,” Castiel says.

All three drink, and then Dean internally beats the crap out of himself. They've had Cas here for nearly four months now, and Dean hasn't given him pie? “We're gonna remedy that,” Dean promises him firmly. And then he turns to Sam, staring at him long and hard before he says, mostly on a hunch, “I've never used a toy on myself.”

Sam glares daggers at him and drinks.

“I've never jerked off in the principal's office,” Sam says, or rather snarls, but Dean drinks without shame because that had been hilarious. The principle in some high school in...had it been Mississippi?...had been an ass, and watching him sink into his jizz-covered seat had been one of the best things ever.

“I never kissed anyone under mistletoe,” Kevin says, with something like melancholy.

Sam and Dean both drink. “We have mistletoe!” Sam points out with way too much pleasure, and Dean glares daggers at him as he tries desperately not to think about mistletoe and Cas and lips...

“I never kissed anyone on the mouth,” Castiel says, almost sadly, and Dean throws back his drink to hide another heart-clenching reaction. _We'll fix that,_ he thinks fiercely.

“I never read a Jane Austin novel,” Dean says this as though it's something to be ashamed of, but all three drink without flinching, and Dean kicks himself for forgetting that these are nerds he's sitting with.

Sam refills the glasses, and says, “I never stole the Impala for a joy ride just to impress a girl.”

Dean drinks. That had been totally worth Dad screaming at him later.

Everyone turns to Kevin, only to find that he's fallen asleep sprawled across the table, head pillowed on his arms. Dean rolls his eyes even as he chuckles, and waves at Cas to indicate he can take a turn.

“I never read a story based on the Winchester gospel,” Castiel says, and looks at Sam expectantly.

“Hate you,” Sam mutters as he lifts his glass. He tosses it back and slams it back down on the table. “Hate you so much.”

“No, you don't,” Castiel says with a knowing smile, while Dean stares at him in horror.

“Please please _please_ tell me it wasn't one of those... you know... _us_ stories?” Dean waves a hand between himself and Sam, and his eyes fly wide when his baby brother flushes and ducks his head to try and hide it.

Sam nods. “I wanted to know why, you know? And the scary thing is some of them had some really good points, I mean, some of the stories actually made sense. They weren't graphic or anything.”

“Stories. As in more than one?” Dean gapes at his brother incredulously, and yet part of him really can't blame Sammy for wanting to see just why people wrote about them like that. He couldn't say he'd never been curious, he'd just never had the balls to actually _read_ one of those stories.

“It's your turn,” Sam mutters in reply, head still ducked until Dean says, “I never read more than one of those stories,” and Sam snaps his head up to level a glare at Dean that could rival one of Castiel's. He drinks.

Sam pauses on his turn, glancing back and forth between the two like he can't decide which one to retaliate against, and finally he says, “I never read gay porn.”

Castiel drinks. Dean chokes.

“It wasn't porn, exactly,” Castiel says thoughtfully as he sets his glass down for Sam to refill. “It had a plot.”

“It counts,” Sam says with a shrug, and he looks disappointed that Castiel isn't embarrassed.

The game continues for another hour, until even Dean is good and smashed, and Castiel has started weaving in his seat, his eyes unfocused and his face flushed. It's Sam's turn again, but he's spent the last two minutes giggling instead of coming up with a question because he turns into a giant girl when he's drunk. Finally, he turns to Dean and looks him dead in the eyes, his grin huge as he says, “I never thought about kissing Castiel.”

Dean's fingers lock around the glass, and even though he's finally hit the point of being drunk he starts to panic anyway because no, no no no, this is not how he wants Cas to find out, no way, this is not...

Castiel chooses that exact moment to vomit all over Sam.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Fifth Day of Christmas**

Dean is woken at what has to be the ass-crack of dawn – yup, the clock confirms it at 5:03 a.m, definitely the upper ass-crack – by a very insistent former angel.

“Cas?” Dean groans, throwing an arm over his eyes when Cas begins flicking the light on and off. “The hell you doin'?” he grumbles sleepily.

“Get up!” Castiel leaves the light on and rushes to Dean's bed. His face is deathly serious, but Dean can see the crinkling at the corners of his eyes that means nothing is dying or about to die. “Dean!”

“Go 'way,” Dean mumbles. He rolls onto his other side and stuffs a pillow over his head. Too early, damn it, way too early...

Cas rips the pillow away and flings it across the other side of the bed, and then rolls Dean over onto his back so that he can plant his hands on the hunter's shoulders and lean over him. His warm breath skates across Dean's lips, and suddenly he's awake. _Holy shit_ is he awake.

“ _Get up,_ assbutt!” Castiel growls, shoving against Dean's shoulders for emphasis.

Dean freezes. His face locks up, his lips quivering and his eyes scrunching in an effort to remain still, but he can't stop it. The first time that muddled attempt at an insult tumbled from Castiel's lips, the angel was killed seconds after, and Dean hadn't exactly had time to enjoy the ridiculousness of it. Now? 

He fucking lost it. The laughter exploded out of him, filling the room and making Cas cock his head curiously. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he smiled, uncertain, and he suddenly leaned closer as though he wanted to inspect the source of the laughter. 

_Cas_ , _lips_... Dean freezes again, eyes blowing wide because Castiel's mouth is _right there,_ and he could just...

“Up,” Castiel demands again. He grabs Dean's hands and bodily hauls him out of bed, and the hunter is helpless to do anything but allow Cas to grip his hand and pull him out of the room. 

The two work their way almost silently from Dean's room to the garage, and then Cas is tugging him quickly up the tunnel, almost running, and Dean doesn't know what they're doing but he's starting to grin over Castiel's eagerness. They reach the top and Castiel suddenly throws himself down, pulling Dean with him. The angle of the tunnel makes it so it would be difficult to spot them from the outside in this position, and that alone makes Dean wonder what's out there. 

“What are – “ He starts, but Cas shakes his head sharply, and then points outside. Dean stretches up just enough to peer out into the sparsely wooded area that immediately surrounds the bunker, and finally sees what has Castiel so excited.

He laughs again, just a quiet huff. “Deer? You woke me up for deer?”

Castiel glares at him. “Look how many there are! And they're so close, we could almost reach out and touch that buck.”

Dean glances around, left then right, and spots said buck. And okay, yeah, he's a beauty, six points and standing apart from the rest of the deer, head held up high for a moment before he ducks down to paw at the snow, trying to find grass. All he's going to find there is cement, Dean thinks, but he can't help but appreciate how gorgeous the animal is. And Cas, he knows, still has this appreciation for all of life, and he understands that this is something special for the former angel. Something special enough that he felt the need to wake Dean up to share it with him. 

The hunter can't stop himself from sliding closer, so that their shoulders are pressed together. It's cold, he tells himself. It's just for body heat. If Castiel throws an arm over Dean's, well, that's just because he still doesn't have any concept of personal space.

They lay there for some time, watching the deer dig for food, until Dean feels Castiel start to shiver. Lightly at first, tiny little tremors he can feel where their arms are connected, but after a while the shudders really begin to wrack his body, and Dean hauls them both up and forces Cas to leave the sight behind. 

“Come on,” Dean says, this time tugging Cas along until they're both in the kitchen. “Sit.”

Cas does, and watches silently as Dean removes two mugs and a container of hot chocolate from the cabinets. He sets some milk on the stove to heat, makes a motion to Cas that says _stay put,_ and goes back to his room. He grabs his coat, runs to Cas's room for his, and then returns to the kitchen. Castiel hasn't moved, and he smiles when Dean throws the coats over the counter. 

“After we get warm we'll go back out,” Dean says with a quick flash of a smile. He doesn't know if the deer will still be there, but they have nothing to do today, so why not go outside and enjoy the snow? 

They end up wandering back outside with their hot cocoa, hands wrapped around the warmth of their mugs and bundled up in their coats. The deer have moved deeper into the trees, so they lean against the wall and watch them a while longer, the silence almost perfect until Castiel suddenly blurts out, “I know it doesn't exist, but Sam made me watch _The Santa Claus_ last night and I wish we could go to that version of the North Pole.”

Dean blinks. He releases the mug with one hand and pinches himself. Okay, so he's awake. He turns to give Cas a raised eyebrow, because that was random even for him. “What the hell would we do in the North Pole?” 

Castiel's head droops forward, chin resting against his chest as he stares into his cocoa with a faraway smile curving his lips. “I don't know. I just very much like the idea of good magic.”

As much experience as Dean has with all things _bad_ magic, he can't help but agree. He glances over at Cas as he takes a sip of his cocoa, and the dumbest idea pops into his head. Despite the fact that it's still hot enough to nearly burn, Dean downs his hot chocolate before heading back down into the garage. He hears Castiel following him, doesn't even ask what they're doing, and Dean wonders what the hell he did to make Cas think he should just follow him so blindly. Part of him wants to shake the former angel, tell him it's a bad idea to follow anyone like that, but another part is just plain pleased with the level of trust. 

Thus far, they've found anything and everything in this bunker, so Dean starts digging around for what he needs with a fair amount of confidence that it will be there. He finds a metal pole, just thick enough that he can barely wrap his hand around it and almost as tall as he is. He sets it aside, and digs through a few boxes and shelves until he finds some white paint and red tape. Castiel watches him quietly the whole time, still sipping his hot chocolate, head cocked curiously. 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean thrusts his thumb over his shoulder, towards the the door. “Can you go see if you can find a round gold ornament? One of the big ones.”

Apparently Castiel has caught on to what Dean is doing, because he smiles widely in understanding as he nods and sets his cup down on a nearby shelf. By the time he comes back, holding one of the extra large globe ornaments, Dean has started painting the grayish pole a snow white. 

“Sam will tease you for this,” Castiel points out as he sets the ornament beside the red tape. 

Doesn't he know it. Dean sighs but doesn't say anything, just tosses Cas a quick grin and keeps right on painting.

It takes three coats and nearly two hours for the gray to fully disappear – Dean's just glad the bunker is so warm, or it would have taken forever for the paint to dry – and once it's done Castiel holds it by the top while Dean wraps the red tape around it in a spiral. It keeps kinking whenever he tries to twist it downwards, but Cas doesn't seem to notice so the hunter doesn't care. When he's done they super glue the gold ball to the top, and it's only then that it occurs to Dean to wonder how the hell they're going to get it into the frozen ground.

He must be frowning at it – that or Cas can still read his mind, angel mojo or no – because he says, “Is there enough snow for us to pack around it?”

Dean shakes his head. “It's too heavy. Grab the ax, we'll just hack up the ground.”

He's pretty sure that's bad for the blade, but Cas doesn't know that and Sam isn't there to complain, so what the hell. They can always get another ax.

The deer are gone by the time they get back outside. Cas looks a little disappointed, but Dean was expecting it. He claps Cas on the shoulder and leads him into a little grove of trees, where they dig away the snow and start hacking at the ground. It's not as bad as Dean thought it would be, but it's not easy either, and it takes them a while to get a hole large enough to bury the base of the pole. They kick and pack the chunks of hard dirt back in with their feet, and finally step back to survey their handiwork.

Dean can't stop the laugh that bubbles up from his chest. It looks unbelievably tacky, but Castiel is beaming like it's the best thing they've ever done, his blue eyes wide and happy when they turn to Dean. The hunter grins back at him and, without thinking, reaches out and grabs the former angel's hand. 

_Oh, shit,_ Dean thinks, his entire body stiffening in alarm, but Castiel just smiles all the wider and tangles his fingers in Dean's.

It's started snowing again, lightly. The trees are laden with it, branches heavy and bent to the ground. The pole is stuck roughly in the center of the little grove. Dean notices absently that Castiel's coat has fake fur in the lining of the collar, and between that and the snow a connection is made in Dean's mind, awakening a memory he'd nearly forgotten.

“Make that a lamppost and it could be Narnia,” Dean says, chuckling. 

“Narnia?” Castiel repeats curiously. 

Dean nods. “It's a book series. Mom read it to me when I was a kid, and I used to read it to Sammy. I don't remember most of them, but in the first one, or maybe the second, this girl found a magic portal in a wardrobe that took her to a place called Narnia. It was stuck in permanent winter because of this snow queen or something, and she ended up going back for her siblings and they all defeated the witch with this lion called Aslan.” When Castiel raises both eyebrows – he never did learn to do just the one – Dean explains, “The animals in Narnia can talk.”

“I see.” Castiel smiles again, and Dean swears the guy leans into him a little. “More good magic.”

“Yeah. I bet the bunker has it, I mean, they have the Wizard of Oz, why not Narnia?” The moment that comes out of Dean's mouth his eyes widen, and he blurts, “Holy crap, what if Narnia's real too? Sammy'd love that!” He shakes his head, lifts his free hand and rubs it across his eyes. “Dude, I don't even know anymore.”

Castiel chuckles quietly, and the fingers tangled around Dean's squeeze gently. “You would be amazed how much exists in this universe, Dean.”

They stand there for a little longer like that, hands still entwined, until their fingers start to go numb. The grip they have on each other is lost by the time they make it back into the bunker, but Dean doesn't mind because Castiel still has a tiny smile on his face, and he doesn't want Sammy to see them like that anyway. That's just way too much ammo for his little brother to have.

They find Sam and Kevin sitting across from each other in the main room, sipping at coffees and digging through books large enough to make Dean wince. Kevin waves at them without looking up from his book, but Sam sets down his coffee and actually twists in his seat to look at them. Dean squirms, wondering if Sam can somehow see what happened. His little brother always was freakishly perceptive. 

“What're you guys doin'?” Sam asks cheerfully, speaking directly to Cas and Dean hates him right now.

“Dean and I made a – “ Castiel's words are cut off when Dean slaps a hand over his mouth. The ex-angel raises his eyebrows at the hunter, but Dean just shakes his head frantically.

“A what?” Sam prompts, grinning hugely. 

Gently, Castiel removes Dean's hand from his mouth and finishes, “A North Pole. It's outside.”

“ _Cas_...” Dean didn't whine, he didn't! He smacks Castiel on the back of the head and turns to level his most dangerous glare at his baby brother. “Not...a...word.”

Sam bites a quivering lower lip, and his hands have started to shake. He holds still for maybe three seconds before exploding out of his seat and running for the garage, Dean hot on his tail. “ _Sammy!”_

Sam's laughter echoes back to him as Dean chases him up the tunnel, and he's not laughing, he's not, damn it...

By the time Dean catches up Sam has found the pole and is bent double, hands planted on his knees as he laughs uproariously. Dean plants a kick to his ass and sends his enormous baby brother toppling into the snow, but Sam just rolls on his back and keeps laughing. So Dean grabs a handful of snow, and dumps it in Sam's face.

“Dude!” Sam gasps, brushing away the snow and shoving himself upright. He grins up at Dean, and the hunter has to force himself not to grin back because it's just so _good_ to see that expression on Sam's face again. “You are so _into_ him! It's seriously adorable.”

“Shut up, bitch!” Dean kicks more snow at Sam, a giant wave of white plowing him right in the chest, but Sam just scrambles to his feet, bending down just long enough to hurl a double handful of cold and wet at Dean before racing for the garage tunnel.

“Jerk!” Sam calls over his shoulder.

That's it, Dean thinks savagely. It's on.

*

Both Dean and Sam are soaking wet and shivering when they get back inside. Kevin glances up, gives them both a once over and just rolls his eyes before returning to his book. Castiel is nowhere to be found, and Dean's almost glad. He really doesn't want to explain that the reason they're drenched is because he was trying his best to drown his little brother in the snow. Cas, being Cas, would want to know why.

The two hunters retreat to their separate rooms for dry clothes. Dean lingers in his, eyes dancing over pictures he's slowly but surely been taping up on the walls for the last year. There's an awkward one of him with his arm thrown around Sam that he'd taken himself just days after they moved in. Dean has a huge grin on his face, but Sam's smile is weak at best. He wasn't convinced at the time that they were staying. Next to it is one of Kevin asleep on his laptop. Dean honestly can't remember if he'd taken that one or of Sam had. There's another near his bed of himself, head thrown back as he laughs at something Sam was saying. Dean grins. Cas had taken that one, his very first picture, and he'd absolutely insisted that Dean keep it. There's one he took of Sam, too, and that one always makes him laugh because Sam decided he needed to make a weird, scrunched up sort of face for it.

And then there's a collection over his bed, one that consists entirely of Castiel. His first attempt at cooking, his first time on the computer – he's glaring at the screen in that one – his first taste of the sugary goodness that was a cupcake. There's even a picture of him asleep in bed, sheets tangled around his legs, one pillow hugged close to his body while the other one lies half over his face. Dean laughs when he looks at that one, and then wonders how the hell he hadn't noticed how gone he was on the guy. 

“Dean?”

The hunter jumps; he'd forgotten he left the door open. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel smiles, and holds up a book in both hands. “I found a Narnia book. I believe it's the first one.”

Dean's eyes flick to the cover to read _The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe._ “Yup, that's it. Well, technically I think it's the second, but most people start with that one. You going to read it?”

“Actually.” Castiel pauses. He strides across the room to sink down beside Dean on the bed, and holds out the book. “Will you?”

Dean takes the book hesitantly. “Will I what?”

“Read it to me.”

“Re...what?” Dean blinks stupidly down at the book. “Cas, that's something you do with kids!”

Castiel sighs, his gaze dropping to his hands as they wrung together on his knees. “Dean, I was never a child. I never had these experiences. I thought...When you talked about reading to Sam, it seemed like a good memory. I just...”

“Yeah.” Dean nods sharply. “I get it.” He turns away for a moment, not wanting Cas to see the fury on his face and think it's directed at him. He gets that angels are nothing like humans, but every time he sees that dejected expression on Castiel's face it makes him angry that he wasn't allowed to do all the things that clearly make him so happy. “Come on, then.”

Dean shifts back so he's sitting up against the headboard, and Castiel joins him. His eyes light up eagerly as Dean opens the book, and now Dean's hiding his expression for an entirely different reason.

The hunter turns to the first page, and he flashes briefly back to a motel in Oregon. Sam was eight, and Dean sat up with him for hours reading this book, at first because he just wanted Sammy to get some sleep, and then because they'd both become caught up in the story. Now he has Castiel, just as wide eyed and eager as his little brother was, and he makes himself turn to flash a grin at Cas before he begins to read.

“ _Once there were four children whose names were...”_

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone reading The Book of the Fallen: I am working on the third story, I swear I am! It's just longer than the original two because now there's a PLOT. lol. ^_^


End file.
